


Damaged Goods (Caged)

by BatsAreFluffy



Series: Like tears in the rain [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Day 4: caged, Hurt Bruce Wayne, M/M, Men Crying, Non-graphic injuries, Referenced not witnessed, Rescue Missions, Slave Trade, Whumptober 2020, and that's ok, people are not possessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26825902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatsAreFluffy/pseuds/BatsAreFluffy
Summary: “The auction is over, my friend,” one of the foremen yelled. “These ones are not fit for anything. Not even rewquith meat.” Several loaders made clicking sounds in agreement with various mandibles.“You have one I want. I won’t trouble you further.” Superman spoke as loudly as he could. Please be here, please be awake. Please be alive.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Series: Like tears in the rain [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950151
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Damaged Goods (Caged)

The translator was barely keeping up with all the different languages surrounding Superman. The cacophony was reaching a fever pitch as the end of the trading market drew closer. The second sunset marked the end of this particular slave market, and by midnight, he’d be lucky to even find crumpled drink cups in the desert.

“You must understand, we have many prized slaves in the auction. I’m sure with another pass through my inventory, we can find you a more desirable slave. Such specifications makes for disappointment, and I do not wish--”

Superman shook his head and continued his march through the throngs of beings. “My specifications were for a reason, trader Su’Ken’tik. You told me your business partner had one.”

Su’Ken’tik scurried behind the Kryptonian. “Yes, he does, but that slave has been a particular challenge, Sir. I have no way to confirm, you know the auctions are very busy, but, it might have already been sold.”

Superman’s jaw clenched. The trader stammered an apology and led the rest of the way.

^^^ ^..^ ^^^

“What do you mean, disposed of?” Superman asked, temper and volume rising. “I was told you had one, and that he was being held in return for a very generous offer.”

The heliotrope slave dealer stammered out an answer. “It – it – w-was too d-d-difficult to keep c-c-contained. And we alr—rr-r-ready had several others ready to be t-t-taken, and one had perished, so – so w-we sent the slave t-t-to the arena.”

Superman’s eyes started to glow red. “Where is this arena?”

“Cap-capital, yenith of the oasis.” _South_ his translator chirped out.

Superman turned, cloak flying behind him, and stormed out of the tent. Neither dealer said a word.

^^^ ^..^ ^^^

“Where in the hell are you, Bruce?” Superman muttered to himself, bolting through the dregs of the market. He’d fly normally, but this sun was draining him faster. Better to save what strength he had to break Bruce out of whatever box they’d locked him in. Disobedient slave, hard to control. “You couldn’t just stay put, now could you?”

Reaching the ends of the market lines, he saw the caravan of cages being loaded. Creatures of all descriptions were stacked in barred cages, shaped like coffins. There was barely any room to roll over, let alone escape. Superman, still moving with purpose, approached the last convoy truck.

“The auction is over, my friend,” one of the foremen yelled. “These ones are not fit for anything. Not even _rewquith_ meat.” Several loaders made clicking sounds in agreement with various mandibles.

“You have one I want. I won’t trouble you further.” Superman spoke as loudly as he could. _Please be here, please be awake._

“We are leaving before the sun dies, friend. I will not unload so you can have one last...”

_...Clark..._

Superman raised a hand and stalked toward the loaded truck. “I don’t need help.” He climbed easily onto the bed, and scanned the heads of the nearest cage coffins.

“I must insist,” came the foreman’s voice, along with the whine of a weapon being primed. “Get off my truck.”

_... scales, scales, spines, blue, black spines, blue, scales, black silver grey – there!_

With a surge of inhuman strength, Superman pulled the second to last cage out with enough speed that the others hung for a second before dropping down the two feet into the space. Another leap, and he landed in front of the foreman, the shortened coffin held in one hand, like a bag of muffins from the baker down the way.

“I told you, you had the one I wanted.”

The foreman raised his weapon halfway, hesitating as Superman continued to walk toward the market with ease. No one stopped him.

^^^ ^..^ ^^^

Clark was panting heavily by the time the hatch closed on the spaceship that the Lanterns had loaned him for this trip. Bruce had been nearly silent, save a few whimpers, and completely still. He’d barely kept his eyes open passed the first few feet of walking, and barely stirred as Clark put the cage down on the floor to start the ship.

“Ok,” Clark muttered as autopilot finally clicked on. “How to get this thing open.”

 _“...top swings ... head up ...”_ Bruce whispered. His throat was covered in blackening bruises that matched the large swath of them down his ribs and one hip bone.

Clark nodded. “Alright, start there, then. How’d they get you in here, B?” Only one locking device was on it.

 _“...choked...gas..._ ” Bruce rasped, eyes blinking rapidly.

Clark pulled the short lid off the cage, and met Bruce’s gazed. “What in the world-?” he stuttered. Both of Bruce’s eyes were glazed with green shimmering liquid. He could barely see the retinas at all. He looked over the beaten man, confused. “There aren’t any locks, B, let me help you up,” he said, and slipped an arm under Bruce’s shoulders.

 _“ hrrmmm! No! Clark... no... stop,”_ Bruce gasped, tears sliding down his face. _“please..”_

Clark froze, transfixed by the tears. “Bruce, I don’t have x-ray vision right now, that planet’s sun wasn’t the right type. Are you hurt internally? Is it your back?”

Bruce choked back a sob. _“... tines ... in my neck ... my hands ... micro ...”_

Clark frowned, and leaned over. “I don’t see anything.” He slid his fingers up the torn flesh, and suddenly felt something. “Oh my god, that’s ... ok, that’s just cruel.” The thinnest metal Calrk had ever seen had been inserted through Bruce’s neck, just below the Adam’s apple.

Bruce’s eyes closed, dripping more tears onto Clark’s fingers. _“... can’t move ... slice right... through spine... saw it hap...pen... took ... head off.... can’t break ..._ ” A choked off sob, and a fresh surge of tears slipped down his face.

“I’m here, B,” Clark said, running his fingers through the mess of Bruce’s hair. “I’ve got you now. We’re on course to the nearest Lantern station, they’ll know how to get these out.”

Clark’s tears mingled with Bruce’s as he leaded over the bars of the cage, cradling the trapped man’s face.

 _“...hurts ...,_ ” Bruce whispered some time later. _“...help ... Clark... please...”_

Clark swallowed loudly. “We’re almost there, B. Almost there.”

_“... legs hurt... on fire...”_

“I’ll get you out of this contraption, I promise Bruce. We’ll get you back up and running the show soon enough.” He choked back a sob as he glanced down at the end of the coffin cage, 4 feet long. Just long enough to contain the bloodied ruin of his lover’s thighs. “Just hang on,” he prayed, kissing the bruised brow. “Just hang on a little longer.”


End file.
